


Orchids

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fingerfucking, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/traintracks/pseuds/traintracks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millicent doesn't know what boys do -- what they do with girls, that is.  Her sexual education has been glimpses of messy snogging, Lavender Brown's tongue plunging into that Weasley's mouth, for instance.  She's also tried ordering from Muggle book shops for romance novels in which men's 'members' thrust mightily in between women's legs, and there's moaning and some sorts of explosions of stars and such.</p><p>Something's always been missing, though</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orchids

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/gifts).



Millicent doesn't know what boys do -- what they do with girls, that is. Her sexual education has been glimpses of messy snogging, Lavender Brown's tongue plunging into that Weasley's mouth, for instance. She's also tried ordering from Muggle book shops for romance novels in which men's 'members' thrust mightily in between women's legs, and there's moaning and some sorts of explosions of stars and such.

Something's always been missing, though.

No one boy, not even Slytherin boys, ever asks Millicent out. Not Crabbe or Goyle or any of them. As if she's hopelessly beneath everyone. She's gone to dances alone or not at all. She pretends it doesn't hurt. She pretends her ambitions are purely magic-related, and she's become the best witch she can, which isn't the best. To her dismay, her best marks come from Ancient Runes. Not Potions or Defense or even Transfiguration, but Runes. For some reason, she has a gift for reading them, interpreting them, finding meaning in the slip of the stones through her fingers, feeling them warm in her palm.

She feels connected to their earthy weight, their slippery information.

It's through runes that Granger first speaks to her in anything other than snide passing.

"You dropped this," she says one day, holding out Millicent's _naudiz_ stone.

Before she can think to do otherwise, Millicent mutters, "Thank you."

Granger blinks at her and drops the stone into her palm. Then she smirks. "I just thought you might need it."

As she walks away, Millicent stares down at the stone. _Naudiz_. Need. It means need. "I get it!" she calls suddenly, but when Granger turns and gives her a small smile, Millicent clamps her lips together, turns bright red, and drops her gaze to the floor.

*

Millicent starts running into Granger in the library by accident. She finds herself staring over at the Gryffindor table at meals. She's lost her appetite. All she can think about is Granger dropping a warm rune into her palm, Granger's body writhing against her own during Dueling that one time. All she remembers is orchid perfume and the brush of Granger's breast against her arm in her struggle.

Granger starts talking to her; Millicent has all but made a nuisance of herself in the library after all. She even dropped her runes again on the off chance Granger would help her out once more.

When they start to talk, it's about Runes and OWLS and teachers. It's tentative. Granger expects Millicent to turn on her any minute. Millicent hates the way that feels. So she's extra careful. She listens a lot rather than talking. She suffers the sneers of Malfoy and Zabini and Parkinson. She and Granger start seeking out private places to talk and work with the runes together so as to avoid Slytherin glares and Gryffindor scoffing.

It takes her a month to suggest the Room of Requirement. "You know...to study in," she says. She's terrified, but Granger goes for it.

"Tonight? Eight o'clock?"

Millicent gulps. "Yeah."

*

They go there once a week at first.

Then it's three times a week.

Then it's most nights.

They've graduated from talking strictly Runes to other subjects. Other subjects, to their lives. Granger trusts her now. She tells Millicent about the house elf thing. Millicent tells Granger about her life. She's never told anyone about her life before.

One night, Millicent brings one of her books, one of the romantic ones. She feels clammy and nervous, and she's sure it's a mistake, but then Granger laughs and says, "I've read a couple of these before! I just hate how simpering the women are, but who doesn't like to read about shagging," she confides.

Millicent's blood goes warm again with relief. "I've read a few with strong women," she says. "In this one, she saves his arse as a matter of fact."

"Really?" Granger takes the book from her hands, grazing Millicent's knuckles with soft, sure fingers.

"Yeah, she's more like you."

Granger darts a look up at her, and all Millicent can do is flush and stare hard at the floor between them.

"How's she like me?" Granger asks, her voice low and quiet.

Millicent clears her throat. The fluffy pillows the room conjured for their comfort now feel lumpy and lopsided under her. "Um...well, she's...brave," Millicent starts. "She says what she means. She's smart. Really smart. And she, uh, she's beautiful."

"They're all beautiful," Granger says, and though Millicent hasn't dared look up, she can tell the other girl has moved closer.

"Not like you," she says in a whisper.

That's when Granger's fingers touch her thigh -- light and gentle.

That's when Millicent holds her breath, looks up, and sees Granger smiling at her.

That's when they kiss.

*

It takes Milllicent three weeks to get up enough courage to do more than snog Granger. Snogging has nearly been enough. Snogging Granger is like eating a strawberry slowly. It's like being on Love Potion night and day. It's a building heat in her chest, between her legs. It's not at all like it is in the books. And it's exactly like that.

When they stop and go back to their common rooms, it's always with flirtatious little looks, the glance of hands touching.

Millicent stares at her face in the mirror in the loo, and she's smiling.

The first time Millicent touches Granger's body, Granger sighs her name, and Millicent almost comes spontaneously from the sound. Her hand inches up Granger's stomach, under her jumper, onto skin, up trembling ribs. They're snogging still, but Granger breaks off to sigh her name, and Millicent slips her hand up a little more, onto Granger's breast outside the rough lace of her bra. Granger's nipple fits in the web of skin between Millicent's thumb and finger. Granger shudders violently. Millicent, for the first time in her life, feels victorious.

*

Runes are all but forgotten for a few weeks; they're there for illicit sex now.

Millicent's heart hammers as she lays Granger down on the bedding on the floor, as she smooths a palm up her skirt (Granger wore a _skirt_.), as her fingers enter Granger's wetness easily.

Granger moves on her, and it's nothing Millicent has prepared for: a woman escalating to orgasm because of _her_. There has been no instruction on this. Millicent just does what her heart and needy body command. She parts Granger's blouse, opens her bra, laves over one nipple for ten minutes before she simply must bite it a little. Granger arches into her mouth on a long groan. It doesn't sound like the women in the books are made to sound. It is harsh and low and undignified but powerful. It makes Millicent's cunt gush hot with pungent slick.

Millicent works her mouth down Granger's half-naked body. Granger raises her arms over her head, letting her, and this makes Millicent feel strong and desired. She pushes Granger's thighs apart -- they ease open with a wet sound -- and she buries her face there, tasting it for the first time.

This part is always the precursor to 'members' in books. But Millicent doesn't think it should be. She could stay here with Granger all day. She makes her come like this. She makes her come again. And then again. Millicent had no idea of what she, herself, could do with just her mouth.

And Granger tastes hot and sharp like they say wine does, although Millicent has never drunk wine. She hopes it's like this.

Granger lifts her disheveled head, her eyes glazed, and licks her lips. "Fuck..." she pants.

Millicent lifts her mouth to smile. She has made Hermione Granger say 'fuck'.

Hermione.

Such a wonderful word, Hermione.

"Turn over," Millicent requests.

"Mmm," Hermione purrs, languidly rolling, pillowing her head on her arms.

Millicent nuzzles her arse, and Hermione parts her legs a little. An inch. A demure asking for something neither one of them understands.

Millicent drags Hermione's body where she wants it, where she must have it, up on the knees, arse up. Hermione chokes on a soft sound. Millicent swallows, her heart going hard, and then she licks over Hermione's arsehole.

"Oh my God!" Hermione calls, voice muffled in her arm.

Millicent licks again. She can't believe she wants to do this. This isn't in the books. She just...wants to. And Hermione tastes almost sweet. The tight pucker of her is so _soft_ , and Millicent loves how it feels on her tongue. Hermione shakes, and Millicent prods at her, wanting more. She grunts a little, immediately tensing. Girls aren't supposed to grunt. But Hermione widens her knees, and the little bud opens, relaxing. Millicent grips Hermione's bum in her hands, and works her tongue inside.

Then Hermione's rocking on it, and Millicent practically flies as she moves her face against Hermione's arse, fucking her tongue in and then licking, kissing it, fucking again. Hermione's hand descends between her own legs, and soon she's quivering again, coming hard on her knees, Millicent's mouth working her through.

*

Millicent gets an Outstanding in Runes, and the year's almost over.

They haven't been able to get away in the last two weeks, what with mad studying, peer pressure, and such. She finds Granger's eyes across the Great Hall once or twice and regrets that she succumbs to a renewed drop in confidence. She just wants to walk over and talk to Granger. She wants to go back to the Room of Requirement. Millicent doesn't know what she'll do if she has to go all Summer without seeing her, talking to her, touching her.

The day before they're supposed to go home, Granger corners her in the hallway. "Tonight?" she says, a little breathless.

Millicent would give anything to kiss her right then, in front of everyone. She just nods.

They meet late, and the wall has only just reformed behind them when Granger turns to her and takes her hand. It's usually been Millicent who instigates lately -- ever since that first touch of Granger's hand on her thigh.

"Millicent," Granger breathes. Then she draws her down onto the floor, on top of her, and Millicent feels Granger's legs parting. She settles between, the heat from Granger's pussy intoxicating against her own.

They kiss, opening blouses hurriedly and sliding hands up and down one another's bodies.

But then Granger stops. "Will you say my name?"

"Gr-Granger?" Milllicent tries.

"The other one."

Millicent blinks. Then in a moment, Granger has rolled them over so that she's on top. She touches her fingers to Milllicent's cheek, and it's out of Millicent's stunned mouth before she's caught her breath: "Hermione..."

The pretty girl on top of her smiles. Then she kisses down Millicent's jaw, her throat, her chest. She peels up Millicent's bra and begins teasing her nipples with her sweet lips. Hermione sucks at one, and Millicent gasps, bucking indelicately. Hermione takes her wrists and presses them over her head to the pillows. She's stronger than she looks. She holds Millicent's wrists there with one slender hand and lets the other glide slowly down Millicent's body until it disappears between her legs, opens her trousers, enters her panties, two fingers in between her folds.

Millicent breathes, staring at the high ceiling but not seeing, as Hermione sucks on her tits and dips a long finger into her, thrusting.

She's never been touched like this.

She had thought no one would really want to.

Hermione moans around her nipple, licking it hard up against her top teeth, and Millicent's eyes roll back. She starts to move on Hermione's hand.

Someone is fucking her. A beautiful girl wants to fuck her.

Millicent doesn't last. She writhes on the floor under Hermione and comes like thunder, sudden and scary. It rolls through her, over her, over them both. Hermione raises her mouth to whisper, "It's okay...it's okay...Millicent...oh, Millicent..." her finger always moving in and out, provoking it, never letting it end.

Minutes later when it does, when Millicent feels faint with it and her breasts are red and wet from Hermione's mouth, her cunt still tiredly gripping every ten seconds or so, Hermione sits up. She's crying. She's been crying.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?" Millicent asks.

"No, Millicent," Hermione sniffs. "Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"How much I'm going to miss you."

Millicent swallows, speechless.

"Will you owl me?"

"What?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake -- you're just like they say boys are after they shag: half-asleep and completely fuck-stupid. WILL YOU OWL ME?"

"If you want me to." _Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!_

"I want you to," Hermione says. Then she lies down against Millicent, her head on Millicent's shoulder, leg slung between Millicent's, arm over her chest.

"I want you to, too," Millicent admits.

She wants to ask, _Are you my girlfriend? Have you told any of your friends about me? Do you think you could love me?_ But she feels about a million miles away from such things. She only feels close enough to reach up and stroke through Hermione's thick hair. She only feels close enough to breathe for now.

*

When the train lets them off at King's Cross, Millicent's aunt is there to pick her up, and Hermione's parents are there as well. Milllicent hardly hears with Aunt Francis is saying to her -- something about not slouching and taking more of an interest in her looks. Aunt Francis is dragging her away when Hermione looks up from across the train station and gives her a wavering smile. Millicent returns it, raising her hand in a little wave.

"Who are you waving at? I see no one from your House in the vicinity?" Aunt Francis sniffs.

Millicent squares her shoulders. She stops slouching. "That's Hermione Granger. She's a Gryffindor," she states defiantly.

"Well, I never," Aunt Francis gasps.

"No, you haven't," Millicent replies, feeling a courage and elation she's never before felt filling her lungs, stiffening her jaw.

Aunt Francis seems at a loss to know what to say to that. Millicent smiles bigger at Hermione, and Hermione waves back.

Millicent had thought she'd be sad, leaving like this. Maybe she's stronger than she thought. Maybe it's the fact that she can still recall Granger's orchid perfume, how it clung to her inner thighs. Maybe it's everything and nothing at all.

Millicent follows her aunt out of the station, walking through the steam from the train, dragging her trunk, and feeling beautiful for the first time in her life.


End file.
